I’ve spent the last couple of years in a whirl of activity, so busy that I couldn’t read a book, take time to knit or write, or even take an hour of rest without feeling guilty that I was letting down one person or another in some way. I haven’t had time for friends or family. I haven’t had time for me.

Instead of doing anything fun, I’ve been studying productivity books, trying to figure out how to pack more and more into my days, trying to figure out how I was going to get it all done, how I could be organized enough to balance the one million different projects I was trying to work on. And now, this realization – organization and efficiency can only get you so far. Eventually, you have to do less.

I was beginning to feel so lost, stressed and confused. I’ve decided to let go of so much of what I was doing and take some time doing all the things that I’ve been missing. Feeding my soul. Absorbing books. Writing my thoughts. Making art. Knitting socks. Talking to friends. Sewing. Learning crochet. Spending hours sipping tea and chatting with kindred spirits.

I’ve had on blinders. I’ve closed out almost everyone, ignoring my family of choice and their support and love. What an awful place I’ve been.